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DOCTOR JARGON

“Google makes it easy, with perhaps a million definitions alone for head colds.”

Senior male doctor with stethoscope holding a clipboard in hospital

My mother wanted me to become a doctor, but I never made the grade. The closest I got was my first two initials—M.D. She’d be proud of her great-grandson Kevin, who’s now a pre-med student at a college in Ohio.

My career field was automotive, and there is a direct correlation between the medical field and mechanics, as I’ll get to in a few minutes. First of all, though, I’d like to touch upon some doctor jargon or lingo.

I’ve visited enough doctors over the years to pick up some of their language, as confusing as it is. I believe it’s purposely kept that way to make things tough for patients to ask questions. Most of us don’t want to come across as stupid, so we refrain. I generally go home and look up the medical terms afterward.

Google makes it easy, with perhaps a million definitions alone for head colds. I generally pick the first one, believing it’s probably closest to being correct. Never go to the very end of the list, as that could put you in outer space.

Endoscopy is one of those medical terms that seems twisted. One would think it’s a scope specifically designed to probe the end, yet it can also be placed down the throat. That’s somewhat unnerving to me if you catch my drift.

I’ve had a few sonograms over the past few years and have come away liking them. It’s as close to a massage as I’ll ever get, with the cool-sonogram-gel feeling quite relaxing during hot Arizona summers. The only downside is that it lasts only a few minutes.

Testing me for neuropathy, Dr. Livingstone in Havasu performed what he called an NCS test, short for nerve conduction study. Probes were placed on my legs, and then electricity was induced into them.

This is as close as I’ll ever come to experiencing what death row inmates eventually feel in Texas prisons. NCS should stand for nerve-curdling shock rather than anything else. A very precise test, I came away with the doctor finding I have mild neuropathy, as many seniors do. I highly recommend this test for those with leg pain. It’s the best way to locate the source.

Cardioversion is another one of those technical medical terms. I had a cardioversion when my heart was in atrial fibrillation, with the process thankfully working. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this.

Probes were placed on my chest and backside, and when I was under anesthesia, my bebopping heart was shocked back into sinus rhythm. I didn’t feel anything other than when they peeled the sticky probes off my skin. That hurt!

Doctor’s jargon and techniques are slightly different than mechanics. Automotive technicians use sonic stethoscopes to listen to an engine’s internal workings. A former coworker wore one around his neck, as doctors and nurses often do, just as an attention-getter.

We used camera scopes as well, much like the colonoscopy and endoscopes. These are used to peer into cylinders through sparkplug holes. The tool helped determine whether there was any damage to the piston or cylinder walls. They can be used for other tasks, such as checking tight spaces for loose wire connections, or looking up one’s nose.

Medical nerve conduction studies (NCS) using electrical impulses are not much different from some circuit tests used by automotive technicians. Voltage is applied through individual wires by a circuit checker to look for shorts or open circuits. Sometimes a wire will come alive and glow if a short is detected, like a faulty nerve.

Instead of performing cardioversions on hearts, jump-starts were quite common for restarting a dead engine. We had mobile battery packs about the same size as those portable defibrillators seen hanging on hospital walls. I have a couple of them in my home garage, mobile battery packs that is.

I can’t tell you how many vehicle cardioversions I’ve done in my life. Many of these rigs were brought in dead on arrival (DOA) on the hook of a wrecker. The difference between a wrecker and an ambulance is minimal in my mind, aside from the cost of transport. A hospital and a garage are also much the same.

No, I didn’t become a doctor like Mom wanted. Instead, I became a practicing mechanic, using my talents to sometimes bring cars and trucks back from the ravages of neglect and poor maintenance.

Given the number of misdiagnoses I made on vehicles over the years, it’s probably for the best I didn’t become a doctor!

Mechanic holding a stethoscope to a car engine while inspecting it

UNDER CONVICTION

“I don’t use the infamous salute these days, but on occasion, the temptation has surfaced”

Pastor preaching from pulpit to attentive congregation in church

Years ago, when I was in my mid-30s, I attended a church service where the pastor was preaching about something he’d recently seen a member of his flock do. You’ll have to guess what this was for the time being, but it certainly wasn’t someone robbing a bank or convenience store.

After the message ended, I meekly asked an assistant pastor whether Pastor Prevo was using me as an example in his sermon. Glenn Clary gave me a serious stare and then said, “No, Mike, but you’re evidently under conviction.”

That was good to hear, because when I flipped some dude off for suddenly cutting in front of me, I was positive no one had seen me do it besides the other driver. Evidently, someone else in our congregation, in a fit of road rage, also gave the one-finger salute in retaliation, and the pastor observed him.

When I told my wife about it, she said it didn’t matter whether the preacher saw me or not, because God sees everything we do. I knew that, but sometimes, in the heat of battle on city roads while maneuvering through traffic, irritations can bring out the worst in a person.

My mother would’ve told me that my toes were stepped on that Sunday morning, and that my reaction was an old-fashioned way of knowing I was under conviction. When a preacher says he “stepped on someone’s toes” during a sermon, it typically means that his message touched on sensitive or personal topics that made individuals feel uncomfortable or convicted.

It’s often a way of indicating that the preaching brought to light issues or behaviors that need reflection or change. The phrase suggests that the sermon was impactful enough to resonate with someone in the congregation, leading them to reconsider their actions or beliefs.

I don’t use the infamous salute these days, but on occasion, the temptation has surfaced. “Go with the flow” is now my motto. What that means for me is to whisper something under my breath, generally calling them the two-word version of “donkey,” and to avoid any physical contact with the annoying driver by not looking at them.

The other afternoon in rush hour traffic, at the notorious Mulberry and Highway 95 red light, a fellow in front of me thought I was too close to his rear bumper. We were stopped, so what difference did it make?

When the light turned green, he just sat there, trying to make me sit through another red. The antagonist finally took off, and I made it through as well, just as the yellow turned red. Not wanting to deal with this guy any further, I held back. Unfortunately, the light at Swanson caught us, and he suddenly changed lanes, ending up directly beside our Jeep.

Yelling at us with his window rolled down, my wife opened hers to see what the man’s problem was. At this point, the guy started making pig-like grunts and telling us how ugly our vehicle was. I already knew that, so it was no insult. For whatever it’s worth, he appeared to be the same age as us.

Wanting to say something retaliatory in return, I bit my tongue. Watching him continually mouth off, I noticed that the man’s teeth were as yellow as a banana peel. For whatever reason, I shouted across Joleen’s lap, “Have you thought of brushing or flossing?”

That did the trick, because he shut up and took off like a jackrabbit when the light turned green. Joleen had me wheel off Highway 95 at the nearest cross street to avoid additional conflict.

Why he instantly clammed up is easy to answer. My abrupt comment that day undoubtedly placed him under what I’d call hygienic conviction. I’ve been there several times as well. My dental hygienist, Jenn, can always tell when I haven’t flossed and calls me out on it. Her vocal observation helps me to do a better job for the time being.

I suppose preachers and dental hygienists see the power of conviction as being a very useful tool. For most people, it helps them make wiser decisions!

Older man with yellowed teeth wearing a cap and plaid shirt sitting in vintage truck holding steering wheel

ILLUSIONAL?

“I’ve come across blurred photographs of paper plates hanging from strings, with folks jokingly calling them flying saucers.”

Woman looking through a night vision monocular under a starry night sky — A woman uses a night vision monocular to observe the night sky outdoors

UFOs (unidentified flying objects) and UAP (unidentified anomalous phenomena) seem to be on the news more often this past year for various reasons. Many of these sightings turned out to be drones, although the military didn’t exactly disclose who owned them. The words “extraterrestrial” or “alien” were associated with a number of these reports.

Rumors quickly spread that some were Chinese or Russian drones, with citizens threatening to take the law into their own hands and shoot them down with rifles. Only after our government promised to take action did cooler heads prevail.

The Department of War recently released, under President Trump’s authority, former confidential and top-secret reports, photos, and videos of UAPs. I saw nothing here that made me a believer; more on my reason why later.

Our backyard is a great place to watch satellites and airplanes at night. With the recent development of the prestigious Rivera housing development, light pollution has increased, but we’re still able to view the stars and galaxies better than in some parts of town.

On occasion, shooting stars and even the International Space Station (ISS) have been observed. I know it’s the ISS by checking a website that shows its exact location at a given time. This manmade object is also much brighter than the average satellite.

As of 2026, there are an estimated 6,000 active satellites orbiting our planet, supporting everything from communications and weather monitoring to scientific research and navigation, including military surveillance. I’ve counted as many as sixteen in one evening with the naked eye.

For years, I’ve kept hoping I’ll stumble across satellite fragments while hiking around in the desert, but so far, no luck. Experts tell us that most “space junk” disintegrates upon reentry, yet some make it through unscathed, as photos have shown.

The corridor along the Colorado River behind our house is busy with commercial and private airplanes, including military jets. Quite often, I can hear the fighters yet never spot them. I’m not sure if this is because they’re stealth or my eyes are failing.

Recently, my wife and I have been tuning in to YouTube channels where adventurous guys and gals camp out in the Nevada desert near Area 51, solely to spot unique aircraft prototypes. They use night-vision equipment to do this. This includes both digital and analog goggles/binoculars, with the prices ranging from $50 to over $13,000.

I ordered an economy-priced version with very good reviews from buyers. Hopefully, these glasses will help us see stealth fighters and bombers, along with providing better images of satellites. My main reason for getting them is to view SpaceX flights streaking across the sky after takeoff from Vandenberg Air Force Base in California.

In the reviews for our glasses, purchasers claimed they were great for viewing wildlife at night, with plenty of that in the desert behind our place. We have coyotes sneaking around, with an occasional UWO (unidentified walking object) at night. I suspect them to be bobcats and loose dogs.

With limited use of this new toy, they do brighten the night sky tremendously. Some stars seem almost blinding, much like those repulsive Xenon headlights on select newer cars and trucks. Cupcake Mountain and the surrounding peaks come in very clearly, even at the darkest hours.

Slow-moving satellites are much easier to pick out, and they don’t fade quite as fast using this night vision. I can only imagine how those high-dollar or military-grade versions perform.

Getting back to UFOs, especially those that some folks insist contain alien beings, I’m still a skeptic here. Until I see the real deal, I believe many of these stories are the product of someone’s wild imagination or them jumping to conclusions more than anything else.

Rumor has it that aliens crashed their spacecraft near Kingman in May of 1953 and survived. If true, I suppose they’d still be living in the vicinity. No exact location is mentioned, with the Walmart shopping area being my first guess.

I uncovered no photographs to prove this Kingman rumor, but there’s a restaurant in Yucca cleverly named “The Frying Saucer.” It’s next to that geodesic dome resembling a giant golf ball. My wife and I have yet to eat there, but it’s on our radar.

Reported sightings of flying saucers are akin to those reports of “Bigfoot” and “The Loch Ness Monster.” Why are their photographs always grainy and fuzzy, as if on purpose? I’ve come across blurred photographs of paper plates hanging from strings, with folks jokingly calling them flying saucers.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is already capable of producing realistic fake images, and before long, they’ll undoubtedly be introduced as the “real deal” in many scenarios. Perhaps they already are, and we just don’t know it. The seemingly large crowds at Gavin Newsom rallies come to mind here.

One of my favorite poems regarding life and reality is a short one by Graeme Edge, of the Moody Blues. This 1967 poem, titled “Late Lament,” is oftentimes read at the end of the song “Nights in White Satin.”

Graeme seemed to be a visionary, knowing that as time goes on, it’ll become harder for people to recognize the truth, even when they see it. Perhaps he understood AI before any of us. The final five lines of this poem sum things up best for me.

“Cold-hearted orb that rules the night,

Removes the colors from our sight.

Red is gray and yellow white.

But we decide which is right.

And which is an illusion.”

Coyote standing in desert vegetation viewed through a night vision scope

HEAVEN & HELL

“I have a good picture of Heaven, yet there are still some things that keep me thinking.”

Diverse group of people smiling and interacting with cats and dogs in a bright, heavenly garden

I often lie awake at night wondering what Heaven will be like. I’ve had different pastors give me their take, and not one of them has painted the same picture. The best version, at least to me, was by a missionary who said that living in Heaven will be like living on Earth without the pollution and problems. I’d assume that means no tornadoes, hurricanes, or scorpions.

I’m not so concerned about the alternative to Heaven, because I know without a shadow of a doubt, I’ll not be headed there after death. For the sake of this article, and my curiosity, I decided to ask my AI (artificial intelligence) helpmate, Miss Purdy, to describe both Heaven and Hell.

“The concept of Heaven has been described in many ways across different cultures and religious traditions. Generally, Heaven is depicted as a place of eternal peace, joy, and fulfillment, where suffering and sorrow no longer exist.

Many believe it is a realm of perfect happiness, where people experience closeness to God or a higher power, and are reunited with loved ones who have passed away. The details may vary, but the common thread is that Heaven represents the ultimate reward and a state of complete contentment and love.

Looking at various cultures and religious beliefs, Hell is commonly portrayed as a place of punishment, separation, or suffering for those who have committed wrongdoings or have turned away from goodness.

Descriptions often include imagery of darkness, fire, or torment, and it is frequently seen as the opposite of Heaven—a state marked by spiritual anguish and the absence of peace. While interpretations differ, the central idea is that Hell represents the consequences of moral choices and the ultimate alienation from joy, love, or the divine presence.”

Miss Purdy completely missed the boat by not mentioning Jesus Christ as the sole means to reach Heaven. With her undoubtedly looking at this project from a secular viewpoint, I suppose she didn’t bring the Holy Bible into the picture, so I decided to seek answers from scripture.

The Bible describes Heaven as a place of eternal joy, peace, and communion with God. According to passages such as Revelation 21:4, there will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain, for the former things have passed away.

It is depicted as a realm where believers in Jesus Christ are welcomed into God’s presence, experience perfect love and fulfillment, and are reunited with others who have been saved. The imagery often includes streets of gold, gates of pearl, and a radiant city, emphasizing the beauty and glory of Heaven. Ultimately, Heaven is portrayed as the ultimate reward for faithfulness and the restoration of all things.

The Bible describes Hell as a place of separation from God, marked by suffering and anguish. Passages such as Matthew 25:46 speak of ‘eternal punishment,’ while Mark 9:43-48 refers to it as a realm where ‘the fire is never quenched.’

Imagery includes darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth, emphasizing the seriousness of spiritual loss and the consequences of rejecting God’s salvation. Ultimately, Hell is portrayed as the ultimate consequence for those who turn away from the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

I have a clear picture of Heaven, yet there are still some things that keep me thinking. Will my new body look the same? Will I have a job? Will folks living there have different personalities than they do now? None of these questions have been adequately answered.

Much too complex a thought for my brain to handle, it seems I’ll just have to keep wondering until that day arrives. In the end, I’m sure Heaven will be a pleasant surprise!

Winding stone staircase with lanterns leading up through clouds to a radiant golden temple in the sky

CHISELED IN MY MIND

“Sadly, our country’s history is filled with such events, with, of course, President Lincoln’s and President Kennedy’s deaths most noteworthy.”

Classroom of students and teacher listening to radio announcing Kennedy assassination — Students and teacher listen to radio news on November 22, 1963, the day President Kennedy was assassinated.

I’ve lived long enough to see three presidents shot, with only one of the assassination attempts successful. For each event, I can tell you exactly what I was doing as it unfolded. You might say that they were permanently chiseled into my brain.

On November 22, 1963, I was in Mrs. Hagen’s fourth-grade class at Reese Elementary in Lubbock, Texas. After lunch, a television was unexpectedly rolled into the classroom with my teacher telling the students that President Kennedy had been shot. He was visiting Dallas that day and in a motorcade that afternoon.

We watched things until being told the president died, with children allowed to go home at this point. I rode my bicycle to school, so it was no problem. Others had to wait for buses.

My brother and I remained at home until the funeral was over, which was on Monday, November 25. I still remember solemnly watching the horse-drawn caisson with the president’s flag-draped casket, while drums played as the body was taken to Arlington Cemetery. I can still hear and visualize that mournful day.

I was playing miniature golf in Manhattan, Kansas, on March 30, 1981, with my wife and her brother-in-law, Calvin. It was a stormy day with lightning and thunder crackling in the distance. We were the only three on the course with the Putt-Putt Mini Golf owner inside his little golf shack.

The fellow had a radio station playing music on outside speakers when suddenly the music stopped, and a news reporter said that there’d been an assassination attempt on President Reagan in Washington, D.C., at the Washington Hilton Hotel.

Joleen, Calvin, and I ceased playing, and the business owner asked if we’d heard the news, to which we said we had. With it now raining harder and lightning much closer, the concerned older man told us he was closing things down. He gave us tickets for another day.

The following year, when we went back to Manhattan to make good on our canceled game, the golf course was no longer in operation. Somewhere in my stored-away boxes of worthless collectibles are those two tickets. Even without them, I’ll never forget that day.

On July 14, 2024, Joleen and I were traveling from Prescott back to Lake Havasu City. We stopped at Westside Lilo’s Café in Seligman for lunch on the recommendation of our good friends, Jim and Pat Brownfield.

The café was packed, with most of the guests either Australian or Kiwi. It’s hard for me to differentiate their dialects, as they sound exactly the same. I had the Southwestern Chicken Sandwich while Joleen ordered a burger. I only remember this from looking at their website.

Before leaving, I ordered a couple of centerpieces of their world-famous carrot cake “to go.” They were large enough slices that just one would’ve sufficed. It was only minutes later that we found out about the shooting in Butler, Pennsylvania, from our son and daughter. Gunnar and Miranda both texted us.

We listened to news reports the rest of the way home and were happy to hear President Trump was okay. After getting things unpacked, all we did for the rest of that evening was stay glued to the tube.

April 25, 2026, was no different from any other Saturday, in that we were watching Supercross motorcycle racing on NBC. That’s our sole sports addiction, and we pay extra for the Peacock channel just to have it.

It wasn’t until the race was over that we found out about the Washington Hilton Hotel shooting. It appears the shooter was after President Trump and members of his cabinet. Thankfully, Secret Service agents were able to keep this shooter from entering the main ballroom.

I’m not sure what significance watching a motorcycle race will have for me in remembering this historical moment, other than that the event took place in Philadelphia, called “The City of Freedom.”

Sadly, our country’s history is filled with such travesties, with, of course, President Lincoln’s and President Kennedy’s deaths most noteworthy. Hopefully, no more of these Trump assassination events take place, yet with demon-possessed leftists and Middle East terrorists running loose, it seems inevitable!

Donald Trump waving to crowd of supporters with security guards and photographers outside Washington Hilton — Donald Trump waves to supporters outside the Washington Hilton during a public appearance.

“COME ON DOWN”

“In this game, there is no humorous ‘zonk’ booby prize.”

Two hosts standing beside illuminated doors labeled 1 and 2 on The Big Choice game show stage — The Big Choice

“Let’s Make a Deal” is a popular American television game show in which contestants, chosen from an enthusiastic audience dressed in costumes, make deals with the host to win cash and prizes.

The gameplay usually involves participants being offered a choice between a known prize or an unknown item hidden behind doors, curtains, or inside boxes—potentially winning big or ending up with a ‘zonk’ — a humorous booby prize.

The show is known for its suspenseful negotiations, playful atmosphere, and interactive format, making it a long-standing favorite among viewers. I was one of those viewers at an early age, always wanting to participate myself.

My brother and I, along with our parents, would choose a door just to make the show more entertaining. More often than not, Mom was the best picker along with Jim. Dad and I generally went with a door the participant picked because the audience played a big role in their selection by yelling.

Life, in a way, is like “Let’s Make a Deal,” except ultimately, we have two doors to choose from instead of three, and we know what’s behind door #1. Why some people still choose door #2 is a mystery to me. I’ll call this game show “The Big Choice.” In this game, there is no humorous ‘zonk’ booby prize.

Without sugarcoating the truth, door #2 is full of false religions that will ultimately lead followers to the gates of hell. Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Satanism, Judaism, Modalism, Humanism, and occult belief may promise fulfillment but ultimately deceive.

As Matthew 7:15 warns, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.” This caution reminds us to be discerning about spiritual teachings and the paths we choose in life. Some religions sound good, yet in reality, they are like lying politicians, making promises that’ll never be fulfilled.

Christianity distinguishes itself by emphasizing the concept of grace—that salvation is a free gift from God, not something earned through works. This message of unconditional love and forgiveness is central, offering believers assurance and hope regardless of their circumstances.

Additionally, Christianity encourages a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, which many find comforting and transformative, providing guidance through life’s choices and challenges.

I chose door #1 and received the blessings within by accepting Jesus Christ as my savior. The feeling of complete joy in doing so was akin to thousands of pounds of burden being lifted from my shoulders. It’s also great to know I’ll be spending eternity in Heaven. Never have I read about anyone following one of the false religions having experienced the same.

In the game show “The Price is Right,” host Bob Barker called out some lucky participant’s name and then shouted for all to hear, “Come on down!” In the real-life version of “The Big Choice,” guest host Satan is undoubtedly echoing the same message to those people who have chosen door #2.

Be careful what door you choose because your eternity is dependent upon it!

Demon with wings and horns at fiery stone door labeled 'DOOR 2', angels and golden castle in clouds behind. — “Come on down!”

WHEN IT RAINS…

“The doctor and her staff were amazing and most professional in caring for cardiac patients like me.”

Rainy desert scene with large saguaro cacti, wet dirt path, and dark storm clouds over distant mountains — When it rains…

The saying “When it rains, it pours” means that when one bad thing happens, it is often followed by other unfortunate events, making the situation feel overwhelming.

It suggests that problems or difficulties tend to come all at once, rather than being spread out over time. While originally related to weather, it is commonly used to describe periods of challenging circumstances in life. I recently had one of those times.

My wife was scheduled for a heart procedure, and I’d been stressing more than her. The morning that she was to go to Havasu Regional Medical Center, I went into atrial fibrillation, or AFIB as it’s commonly called. That entailed a quick trip to the ER with Joleen taking me. I had her drop me off and go back home as she needed the rest.

Preceding all of this, our son’s wife was rushed to a hospital in Colorado Springs, where she was diagnosed with appendicitis. That meant Kay’s appendix was close to bursting, which is a dangerous situation.

We’d been monitoring that just one day before, with it turning out successful, although the same couldn’t be said for that failing organ. It was removed and sent to a secret location known only to a few sanitation workers.

I was admitted to the emergency room early on Monday morning. They immediately started intravenous drips in both arms with blood thinner and some type of wonder juice to make my heart start beating regularly. Hey, I can’t remember the medical names.

Tito in the ER was a pleasure to deal with, and we even talked about my favorite subject for a couple of minutes, cars. A muscular, personable guy: it turns out, he drives one of the newer, sleek-looking Corvettes. I wanted to tell him that I thought my Hellcat was faster but refrained.

After being stabilized, they rolled my bed upstairs to the second floor, where room 210 became my new home. I forgot some of the names because I was in and out of sleep, yet I recall Chris, Dre, Jorge, Jamie, Jose, Alex, Camille, and most of all, Dr. Bate.

The doctor and her staff were amazing and most professional in caring for cardiac patients like me. By what I believe was divine intervention, Joleen bumped into Dr. Bate in the elevator, and they exchanged pleasantries, including news that I had been unexpectedly admitted before her.

When the good doctor walked into my room, she already knew most of the story here. One thing we both agreed on was that praying came foremost over anything else. I told her I’d been doing so nonstop. The hospital chaplain even stopped by and said a prayer for me.

I learned something new since my last stay: don’t leave bed without having someone turn off the alarm system. I had the whole crew come rushing down when I did, evidently believing I’d escaped. I promised them, especially Camille the nurse, never to do that again.

After Joleen’s successful procedure, the post-surgical department nurse, Linda, along with our friend Kathy Crowe, wheeled her up to see me. That was an emotional time because I’d still been worrying, even though I didn’t need to be in my fragile situation.

Seeing her brought instant relief, along with tears, in knowing my wife was fine. Jerry and Kathy Crowe took over watching Joleen for the first 24 hours, as I was supposed to be the caretaker.

One of the main things I learned from this experience is that it’s important to have supportive friends and family in times of need. We just never know when the rain will start pouring. Diane at AllPaps in Havasu was another blessing.

She delivered a CPAP machine for me to use after closing hours. That allowed for the sleep I needed without worry, as I’ve only been using one of these machines for 10 years. To me, a shallow breather, they’re necessary, much like a blanket is to Linus.

I was impressed with the Cardiac Care unit at HRMC and wouldn’t hesitate to go there again. Dr. Atassi even stopped by to check on my progress, and that meant a lot to me as I know he’s a busy man, being the head doctor with his cardiac group.

The number one question I’ve been asked since my release is, “How was the food?” I’ll have to give it flying colors for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The egg scramble was excellent, as was the rigatoni and meat sauce, and the BBQ chicken with vegetables was superb.

I’ve dined at several hospitals in different states, with HRMC at the top of them for preparation and taste. I believe Chef Guy Fieri would totally agree with me!

WALKAHOLIC

“When I’m hiking the trails around town and someone my same age goes whizzing by, I’m not impressed.”

Senior couple walking down a grocery store aisle for household goods and cleaning

The average person walks between 3,000 and 4,000 steps per day, which is roughly 1.5 to 2 miles daily. Over the course of a year, this adds up to approximately 550 to 730 miles walked by an individual. Actual mileage may vary based on lifestyle, occupation, and physical activity habits.

My total mileage walked in 72 years, based on this formula, would be 52,560 miles, but I believe I’m way above average, so the number should be more than double that. Subtracting the first five years of my life, I’d say I’ve easily walked over 100,000 miles in total, which may seem high, yet Toyota cars and trucks, when properly maintained, can reach well over 300,000 miles.

I’ve taken care of things by not running, which impacts knees, hips, thighs, ankles, and feet. Studies have shown that runners are much more likely to require hip and knee replacements in later life due to the repetitive stress these activities place on the joints.

Over time, the increased wear and tear can lead to joint degeneration, making surgical intervention more common among frequent runners. Several of my friends who were former runners have undergone this.

While running is often celebrated for its cardiovascular benefits, walking offers many of the same health advantages with less impact on the joints. Regular walking can improve heart health, help maintain a healthy weight, boost mood, and reduce the risk of chronic diseases such as diabetes and hypertension.

For individuals looking to stay active without the increased risk of joint injury, walking provides an effective and sustainable alternative to running. It’s not as impressive to tell someone you walk for exercise as it is to run, yet when you reach 70, it doesn’t really matter what people think.

We keep an exercise bike and a treadmill in the house, and I use both sparingly, although in Alaska during winter, they both received a good workout. My old Schwinn Airyne had over 10,000 miles when it was retired. This new one is still under 1,000.

Rotary Park provides the best place to walk in Lake Havasu City during the summer months, though only in the morning hours before it gets too hot. Walmart is our next go-to place because it’s huge and air-conditioned. Joleen and I jokingly call it Walkmart. We’ve seen others walking there for exercise.

Three or four complete circuits around the store is sufficient, making for a good country mile. That’s a statement you don’t hear much anymore. A “country mile” is an informal phrase used to describe a distance that feels much longer than a standard mile, especially when traveling through rural or undeveloped areas.

The term often refers to the perception that distances in the countryside, where landmarks and reference points are fewer, seem to stretch farther than the same measured distance in a city or town. So, when someone says something is a “country mile” away, they usually mean it’s a lot farther than you might expect.

As long as I’m able to simply walk at a normal pace, I’m happy. So many seniors lose that ability and suffer immensely, and in some cases, never leave the house. When I’m hiking the trails around town and someone my same age goes whizzing by, I’m not impressed.

Given time, they’ll eventually be on the sidelines from too much strenuous activity, and I’ll pass them. I say that from a mechanic’s perspective after seeing old vehicles pushed to the limit and then breaking down.

Call me a “walkaholic” if you like. The joy I get from still being able to walk far outweighs most physical attributes at this point in my life. I hope I can continue walking until the buzzards start circling and squawking!

Elderly woman crossing Walmart 5K finish line indoors with cheering crowd

HIGH MAINTENANCE II

“To her, Mick was just another free meal, movie, and gift provider.”

Woman in green dress sitting at a table holding a glass of champagne in an elegant lounge — Let her go

Many years ago, a single friend and coworker was on the dating scene and encountered his “dream girl.” I only met her once but sensed right away she was ‘high maintenance.’

Other workers in the shop felt the same and advised him to let her go after hearing breakroom stories about what the woman expected in terms of meals and entertainment.

A female described as ‘high maintenance’ is often perceived as someone who pays close attention to her appearance and enjoys indulging in luxuries. She might prioritize fashion and beauty routines and expect a certain level of care or effort in her relationships. This gal fit that bill to perfection.

Living paycheck to paycheck, Mick (not his real name) eventually couldn’t afford to satisfy her extravagant tastes and had to let her go, though it didn’t hurt the woman’s feelings. She already had two other guys on the hook. To her, Mick was just another free meal, movie, and gift provider.

“Let her go” can also be used in a different sense, with “let him go” being the alternative. I’m sure many women have similar tales about men they’ve dated, their dates not carrying the title of high maintenance, but needing maintenance instead. I’m talking about unkept appearance, such as unbrushed teeth, body odor, dirty shoes, along with personal problems.

Thankfully, my wife never decided to let me go, but just recently she advised me, along with my doctor, to “ladder go.” I’m talking about climbing ladders, after falling off one and striking my head on a block wall before hitting the concrete floor.

Seeing stars for a few seconds, it took a couple of months before the pain went away. I’m still feeling some tightness in my neck and shoulders, with Tylenol working its magic. A friend fared much worse after she took a plunge from a stepladder in a garage. Barb suffered a broken wrist and bruises and is still recovering.

Medical reports show that climbing ladders poses significant risks for senior citizens due to age-related changes in balance, strength, and vision. Falls from ladders can result in serious injuries such as fractures, head trauma, or even long-term disabilities, including death.

Seniors are particularly vulnerable because their bones may be more fragile, and recovery from injuries often takes longer. Even a minor misstep can lead to a severe accident. It’s important for older adults to avoid unnecessary ladder use and seek help with tasks that require climbing.

Safety measures, such as using sturdy ladders, ensuring proper footwear, and having another person nearby, can reduce the risk but don’t eliminate it entirely. Taking precautions and recognizing personal limitations are essential to prevent dangerous falls.

Unfortunately, I still must climb ladders because our home needs light bulbs changed on occasion, smoke detectors replaced, dust bunnies removed, and, just recently, I completely repainted the bathroom.

Our house, just like Mick’s old girlfriend, is high maintenance. Perhaps it’s time to let her go and look for a condo!

Elderly man falling backward off a ladder in a workshop with tools scattered — Ladder go

BOSS

“The last time someone called me ‘Boss’ was when a young fellow at the McDonald’s drive-thru did so last week.”

Inmate in green prison uniform walking with handcuffs and leg shackles escorted by officer in prison corridor — Dead man walking

On rare occasions, perhaps once a year, someone refers to me as “Boss,” and it’s generally a younger person. I don’t mind the name, but it always makes me think of a movie I watched starring actors Tom Hanks, Michael Clarke Duncan, and Doug Hutchison. This film was called “The Green Mile.“

In that movie, John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan), a black prisoner wrongly imprisoned for the murder of two children, is befriended by prison guard and supervisor, Paul Edgcomb (Tom Hanks). Prisoner John Coffey refers to Edgcomb as “Boss” in a respectful manner, much like workers address their employers.

John Coffey has inherited supernatural and healing powers, with the movie script focusing on John’s ability to know and do things no human is capable of. At the time of his death by electrocution, those powers are passed on to Tom Edgcomb and a small mouse named “Mr. Bojangles.”

“Dead Man Walking” is sadistically sung out by prison guard Percy Witmore (Doug Hutchison) each time a prisoner on ‘death row’ comes walking down the hall. To the disgust of his fellow guards, Percy does this with a sinister smile on his face. John Coffey was one of those death row prisoners mocked.

The phrase ‘dead man walking’ is an idiomatic expression that originally referred to a person on death row who is walking toward their execution. Over time, it has come to describe someone in a hopeless or doomed situation. There is an answer for such, and his name is Jesus Christ.

The last time someone called me “Boss” was when a young fellow at the McDonald’s drive-thru did so last week. Handing me my bag of food, he politely said, “Have a good day,” before sliding the glass window shut.

Without opening the bag, I sensed that something was wrong. The order was supposed to consist of two orders of Chicken McNuggets along with some barbecue and ranch dipping sauces. Opening the sack, Joleen told me we only had barbecue, which was okay with me but not with her. I then had to tap on the glass and ask the guy for ranch.

Thinking back to being called “Boss,” and my premonition that something was wrong with the order, John Coffey’s powers entered my mind. “The Green Mile” had left a lasting impression on me and perhaps something even more extraordinary: the ability to see inside a paper sack without opening it, much like Superman.

Silently chuckling at my thoughts, my wife carefully reviewed the receipt, as she always does. Coming to the part where the dipping sauce was printed out, Joleen informed me, “You didn’t order ranch. It only says barbecue.“

I was sure I’d mentioned ranch when talking to the employee via intercom, but Joleen insisted I hadn’t. Mistakes happen quite often with our orders, usually because I can’t clearly hear the order taker’s questions. I suppose that’s a big problem for drive-thru clerks, especially when they must deal with the often hard-of-hearing senior citizen crowd.

I now must wonder if that fellow who last called me “Boss” also didn’t sarcastically mutter under his breath, “Deaf Man Driving.” Perhaps behind that sliding glass window, employees are constantly singing it!

Elderly man in car ordering at McDonald's drive-thru speaker — Deaf man driving.